Hold you Tight
by civillove
Summary: Request (Do a drabble where Blaine and Seb are roommates and one of them as a tough day and comes in their dorm and they just cuddle even though Seb doesn't like it) I wrote a one-shot whOOPS


Title: Hold you Tight  
Pairing: seblaine  
Type: One- Shot (remember when I said these were supposed to be drabbles….remember?)  
Rating: PG-13  
**Summary **(request): "Do a drabble where Blaine and Seb are roommates and one of them as a tough day and comes in their dorm and they just cuddle even though Seb doesn't like it :3"  
**AN**: To Roo, babe, I love you so much and I hope you feel better. All the seblaine snuggles okay

Blaine always prided himself on being fairly optimistic. His grandfather had always told him that it was more than likely a waste of time to be upset about something that wasn't going his way—because for one, dwelling on problems was just going to make him feel even more frustrated than he already was and two, someone always had it worse off compared to what he was going through.

He wasn't sure if he really believed that or not—his glass hadn't always been half full, it was more like his grandfather had poured it halfway for him and Blaine had just kept it that way.

It was easy for him to be optimistic—it was usually useless to be upset when he could have been putting that same energy into fixing what was wrong. And maybe that was a bad way to look at things because not everything could be fixed.

He couldn't fix the fact that his parents were getting a divorce or the fact that they barely knew he was Captain of the Warblers or that he applied to colleges other than the ones his father mapped out for him. He couldn't fix that Cooper lived in LA and that he barely got to see him other than on Thanksgiving and Christmas. He couldn't fix that on Warbler dance routines that he had to place Nick on the far left and Thad on the far right—because Thad tended to over spin and step on any person's foot if they were close enough (and that usually ended up being Nick). He couldn't fix that every time he went out in public with Sebastian that the other male tended to be possessive—and grabbed his ass whenever he caught someone looking at Blaine (and alright, maybe he didn't exactly _want_ to fix that…).

But he knew that some things just couldn't be fixed, no matter if he was upset or optimistic about them or not. Just like he knew he couldn't really fix the fact that someone didn't like him. And his optimism was quickly waning thin in terms of his Literature professor. He could tell that the man didn't like him—he was tired of people telling him that he was being dramatic or that he was just too sensitive. It wasn't like he thought Mr. King was out to get him or anything—but calling on him when Blaine took a second to daydream, making him the designated person to pass out papers, and grilling him after class on proper conduct and the importance of being early anytime he was three or so minutes late to class (his dorm was on the other side of Dalton, he basically had to _run_ from breakfast to make it on time) seemed highly coincidental.

But Blaine continued to stare at that half full class in his head; he knew that there had to be _some_ way to get Mr. King to, if not like him, at least tolerate him enough to not go of his way to make that forty-five minute class period miserable.

He thought maybe if he made it to class on time or paid more attention or knew the right answers when he called on Blaine in class or smiled at him a bit more when Mr. King told him to pass out the papers like he actually enjoyed doing it, that that would somehow work in his favor. And he had kept up on that routine until Thursday morning when he had gotten a research paper back that he had worked on—

And the bright red letter grade at the top, the indentation of the pen harsh, rough and critical, read C.

He had never gotten a C in his life in Literature. _Never_. It came naturally to him—much like being a Warbler and dancing or being a good boyfriend.

Blaine was pretty sure the bottom of his jaw had smacked off his desk when Mr. King smiled at him, tipping his head towards the paper. "Better luck next time, Anderson."

That half full glass had just tipped off the steady table and smashed into a thousand jagged pieces—and the expression may have been to never cry over spilled milk but that didn't stop the tears from building up in his eyes as he rushed through crowded halls of students to get back to his dorm room.

He pointedly ignored some of the cat calls that whistled after his ass and tried to mutter apologies to people that he bumped into on the way out of the building, crossing the courtyard in the frigid cold but not bothering to take the time to button up his coat or put his scarf back on. His cheeks were tinged pink and the tips of his ears were numb as he pushed his way into his dorm room, his satchel falling from his shoulder and spilling out onto the floor as he threw the poor excuse for a paper onto his desk. The force of his throw knocked over a cup of pens he kept in the corner and he barely noticed Sebastian sit up in bed as he yanked off his Dalton blazer and tie, tears blurring his vision and making him fumble with the act of taking off his shoes.

"You mind telling me why you just burst through the door like you're being chased by zombies? Or from Cooper with a ridiculously embarrassing baby photo?" Sebastian asked, his voice collected and calm—but Blaine could hear the dips of concern, he knew how to pick them out of Sebastian's tone after dating him for so long.

He didn't want anyone to think he cared about anything, that he was impassive and that he could go with the flow, that nothing really affected him in any way, which was always a little ridiculous to Blaine because he knew that stuff _did_ matter to him. But caring was a scary concept to the tall male behind him—caring meant it opened him up to a lot of other emotions that were complicated and messy. And Sebastian Smythe was anything _but_ those things. But Blaine knew he cared about his grades, he cared about being in the first string on lacrosse, that even though the Warbler's dancing skills were atrocious he cared about them and he cared about winning, he cared about his mother even though she was out of town more times than not and most importantly, he knew he cared about _him_.

When Blaine didn't answer him and merely unbuttoned his white shirt and placed it on the bed, pulling out his undershirt from being tucked into his pants, Sebastian sighed and tried to fill in the blanks without asking.

"Mr. King?" He guessed.

Tears dripped from Blaine's eyelashes without his permission, his shoulders shaking with effort as he held back frustrated sobs building up in his chest—the pressure made him feel like his ribs were going to crack or that his spine was going to pop. He wanted to curl in on himself, like that would somehow help him, and the awful bright outline of a C that he _swore_ he could see even though the paper was folded in half, disappear.

He sighed and wiped tears off his cheeks with the back of his wrist, turning around to look at Sebastian. He bit his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood, the skin raw and bruised from the continuous brush of his teeth.

"You know that research paper I was working on for two weeks? I got it back and…he gave me a _C_, Sebastian. Do you have any idea how that can tank my GPA?" He choked out, his arms wrapping around his midsection like that might help control how he was feeling. "And from what I can tell he hit me on formatting, like…extra spacing and how I cited my sources!" His voice rose slightly, initiating a small pound on the wall from the room next to them, telling them to keep it down.

"He didn't even take off for content," He laughed, more from irony than anything else, another fat tear sliding down his cold-burned cheek and the heat of it stung his skin. "and that's because the paper is actually good! But no, he couldn't just give that to me. He just _had_ to knock me down a p-peg."

Blaine's lips wobbled as he looked at the carpet, trying to find something interesting in the way his toes curled into the fabric as he saw Sebastian shift on the bed. He didn't know he was reaching for him before he felt warm fingers curl around his forearms, dragging him closer to bed. He actually thought for a solid two minutes that Sebastian was going to unzip his pants and possibly put his mouth on him—because Blaine knew that when Sebastian was upset that an orgasm usually helped him calm down, release pent up tension or something that he was keeping under lock and key inside. And while Blaine loved the idea of Sebastian's mouth pressing kisses on the soft skin on the inside of his thighs before humming around his cock, that wasn't what he needed right now. But before he could protest—he realized Sebastian wasn't doing what he thought.

Blaine let him pull him onto the bed, watching the other male stretch out and lay down on his back, his arm wrapping around his waist to mold him into his side.

"What are you doing?" He asked, his voice still blotched with tears.

Sebastian's one eyebrow rose. "I'm baking a pie, Anderson. What does it look like I'm doing?"

Blaine bit his lip but didn't argue the action, letting Sebastian wrap himself around him. He rested his head on his chest, the tear tracks on his cheeks and wet eyelashes brushing against the thin material of Sebastian's shirt. He felt Sebastian shift to intertwine their legs as his one hand stroked Blaine's bicep while the other squeezed him to his chest and pressed circles into his spine.

"You don't even like cuddling." Blaine muttered into his sternum, sniffling a little before looking up at him.

Sebastian sighed before rolling his eyes. "Well I don't like that look on your face either, like someone just murdered a box of kittens right in front of you."

Blaine rolled his eyes but felt a tiny smile tug at the ends of his mouth as he sniffled again. Sebastian dipped his head and pressed a long kiss to the beginning of his hairline, his hand rubbing up and down Blaine's back as he did so. Blaine closed his eyes, falling into the comfort of Sebastian's touch and warmth and the scent of his expensive cologne and something so purely him. All the frustration and irritation he had been feeling seemed to melt out of his pores as Sebastian continued to pepper kisses along his forehead, occasionally dropping one on the bridge of his nose as his long fingers circled shapes into the back of his shoulders and spine. He knew he had probably overreacted a bit at the sight of a C but he was a straight A student and he had worked so hard on organizing the information for that essay. The grade was just unfair—but there was nothing he could do to fix it at this point. He would just have to do better the next time; he'd work twice as hard and wouldn't give Mr. King any reason to give him anything other than an A.

"Do you feel better?" Sebastian asked a moment later, his one hand that had been on his bicep moving to cup Blaine's face, a tender and surprising gesture that he had a never done before. The palm of his hand was warm and inviting, making something flutter and tug in Blaine's stomach as Sebastian's thumb brushed over his cheekbone.

Blaine pushed his face into his hand, his head turning a bit to kiss the spot under his thumb, his nose trailing across his life line. "Yeah." He whispered, looking up at him. "Seb…you're cuddling with me. To make me feel better." He smiled up at him, tears from before nearly forgotten.

Sebastian sighed, shaking his head as he attempted to glare at him. He hooked his finger under Blaine's chin, drawing him closer for a kiss. Blaine closed his eyes as his lips slid against Sebastian's—he could taste lip balm on his lips and coffee on his tongue as their noses brushed every so often and his hand rested on Sebastian's chest, the soft thumping of his heart vibrating under his fingers.

"You mention this to anyone?" Sebastian smiled a little against Blaine's lips, nipping at his lower one. "And I'll deny it."

Blaine just shook his head and laughed.


End file.
